Conflict Over Gold Discovery
Once upon a time, gold deposits were discovered in our town. The news of this valuable mineral being found near a neighboring town created a conflict between the two communities, as the enormous wealth led to disputes that seemed impossible to settle. Communal chaos and tribal wars ensued, resulting in the loss of many lives. In order to defend themselves, both communities formed militant groups that would protect and attack on their behalf. These militant groups experienced several captures of their leaders and engaged in inhumane acts of violence.
There was one particular enemy leader who remained elusive for a long time. Whenever he invaded our town, a large area would be paralyzed with fear. I vividly remember an incident that I can't forget. I was walking out of my father's tomato garden when I heard cries of "they have come, they have come!" My father, who was with me and my siblings in the farm, immediately instructed us to lie down flat. The enemy militants noticed human presence in our farm and started shooting in our direction. Our dog was shot in the leg and let out a cry of pain. The militants began approaching our location, and my father whispered to us, "Don't make any noise or move. Stay completely still." At that moment, I believed it was the end for me, my two siblings, and my father.
The dog was shot right in front of our compound, near the mango tree. Despite being injured, the dog managed to drag itself, whimpering and in pain, realizing it shouldn't come too close to us to avoid endangering our lives. It crawled towards the kitchen while barking, diverting the attention of the militants who assumed there were humans in the compound. The dog slipped through an opening and escaped outside, still barking. I overheard them say, "They have run away. Let's go." Whispering softly to my dad, I told him to move his left leg inward, and he did so quietly. Just as they were about to leave, one of the militants sensed human presence in the garden and looked around. Eventually, he left upon hearing their leader's voice saying, "Let's move to the other side." They all departed, and as they went further away, our dog dragged itself back to us, still whimpering from its wounds. It touched us with its tail, guiding us towards the bushes. My father understood that we needed to leave the area immediately. Once we entered the dense foliage, we started hearing sporadic gunfire in our compound and garden. The militants became disoriented and ran towards us after hearing the commotion from the bushes.
Our dog ran to the left while we fled to the right. It continued barking loudly, diverting the attention of our enemies, who followed its direction and moved away from us. Eventually, we reached the camp of our town's militant group. When we arrived there, my younger brother John, who was part of the group, joyfully welcomed us while carrying an AK-47 on his shoulder. He swiftly put us in a Peugeot saloon vehicle and took us to a safe place. Two days later, after the enemy group had left the town, we returned and found our dog waiting for us in our compound. It greeted us with leaps and wagging its tail, and we showed our appreciation by patting its back. We immediately took it to the veterinarian for treatment.
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